


I Know Why the Caged Crow Sings

by TasteTheHemospectrum



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Game, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Harpy Dave, Mythical Beings & Creatures, more tags to be added as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 13:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12935853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TasteTheHemospectrum/pseuds/TasteTheHemospectrum
Summary: "As much as I hated the market, the idea of being purchased made my innards constrict with relentless dread. Every pair of eyes that landed on me but moved on without another thought brought me a split second of relief. Every gaze that lingered for only a moment too long made my heart rate quicken with terror."Dave is one of the most frequent visitors to the market, and not by choice. As a harpy, he is considered rare and is always in high demand, but it seems like not a single person can handle keeping him for more than a couple days. Dave preferred to keep it that way.





	I Know Why the Caged Crow Sings

**Author's Note:**

> I do not condone rape, sexual assault, or abuse. It will not be romanticized at all in this work, but it will appear with later chapters. I'll provide warnings at the beginning of each chapter that contains any such content to an extreme.

     I’d rather fall blindly into the pits of Tartarus than return to the market, the hell I knew all too well. 

     I could tell I was here again before they even uncovered my cage just by the overwhelming odor of excrement alone. I grimaced at the splash produced by the bottom of my cage as the delivery men dropped me down on the filthy cobblestone and tried to ignore the droplets of muck that splattered onto my perch. When he ripped the tattered cloth away, I was presented with that familiar sight of a dense crowd workers and shoppers promenading in the aisles between rows of countless cages and tanks under the dim, amber lighting coming from the oil lamps that hung from the high ceiling. I immediately shut my eyes, desiring a few more moments of darkness to adjust to my return.

     Now, with the image blocked out, I had no choice but to listen to the deafening din of the creatures and humans alike congregating in the enormous warehouse. Some noises, I knew as well as my own voice. The blood-chilling cackling of that young gorgon with her eyes gouged out who had never once been purchased since her capture centuries ago. The frantic clicking of tiny hooves as more newborn centaur colts were separated from their rag. That mute siren banging hopelessly on the glass walls of her aquarium. The scratching of small, muzzled dragons’ claws on the cold stone floor and the rattling of the chains that held them. The quiet but perpetual weeping of the numerous nymphs kept shackled on display. 

     Other sounds were uncommon enough that curiosity urged me to open my eyes, like the unsteady gait of something with hooves. I jerked back from the suddenly closeness of a satyr getting dragged off by his horns. He had what looked like a broken leg and was stumbling after who was presumably his new owner. Through the throng of people, I could see an emaciated, whinnying pegasus with deep chocolate fur getting wheeled in on a cart, its wings and legs bound with fraying hemp. Beside me, in a brass cage identical to mine, an unfamiliar phoenix cried out and attempted to flap its mutilated wings in vain. 

     Then, of course, there’s me, one of the cheapest buys in the place, crouched on a rusty old perch with my abnormally long legs hugged to my feathery chest and my wings folded tightly against my back. I’d been coming back here since before this place had a roof and when people wore only robes and sandals. If it weren’t for my remarkably low price, no one would bother giving me a second glance; hardly anyone would want to buy a scrawny, little harpy boy with ugly feathers like grimy soot and scaly, inhuman extremities like shiny asphalt. I was one of the first crafted in the careless hands of Zeus himself, not an exquisite, pompous show bird bred for beauty like those that occasionally show up at the market, only to be purchased within minutes of their appearance.

     Over all the commotion, an earsplitting screech reverberated within the brick walls of the building and tore me from my thoughts. I curiously straightened up to get a look at whatever made the noise, but I predictably banged my head on the low roof of the cage and shrunk back down. I did manage to catch a glimpse of it, though, and regretted it. The grisly image of that manticore getting declawed mere meters away on the ground was enough of a reason to keep my eyes closed for the next several days.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure where I'm going this or if I'll even finish it at all. I have some general plans for the next few chapters, but I'm not sure if I see it through to a resolution or just add more to it until I get bored and abandon it.  
> If you have any helpful suggestions, situations you'd like to see, or any other ideas you'd like to share (especially if it pertains to the plot) then please let me know. It will be greatly appreciated.


End file.
